


Ricochet

by misaffection



Series: Leverage [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misaffection/pseuds/misaffection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wonders if the desperation she felt on the edge of Lake Silencio was anything like what he experienced handcuffed to a post, unable to do nothing but watch her die. Wishing he could rewrite time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ricochet

He wakes with a jolt.

The TARDIS responds to his waking by illuminating the walls with a soft, orange glow. The arching ceiling gives an impression of sky and he can almost – almost – be home. Yet it's not the nightmares of Gallifrey burning that have disturbed him, but the memory of a sandy bank alongside a glassy lake, of an astronaut walking from the water, of his death.

He has forgiven her. It was not her fault, so how could he blame her? How could he when he loves her so much? It gets deeper every day, encouraged by the fact that she has not left his side since their wedding night. And yet, despite his love and forgiveness, he cannot forget.

The Doctor sighs and untangles his limbs from River's. She murmurs, eyes still closed, then settles back to sleep even as he slips from the bed. He finds his trousers, pulls them on, the clip of the braces cold against his bare skin. He leaves the bedroom. Goes directly into the console room. The TARDIS reorganises to suit his needs and what he needs at that moment is familiarity.

The centre column pistons up and down. They are idling through space, with no destination in mind, no time they need to be. The Doctor gazes at the monitor and thinks of the Storm Cage and of the Byzantium. At the edge of both is the memory of a vast city under a moon, the buildings made up of shelf upon shelf, and the dust that floated in the light beams.

He remembers River killing him. Or what she believed to be him. The look of terror and pain on her face as she fought the conditioning and failed. He can remember her in another spacesuit, but then there was utter certainty in her eyes. He wonders if the desperation she felt on the edge of Lake Silencio was anything like what he experienced handcuffed to a post, unable to do nothing but watch her die. Wishing he could rewrite time.

_“Not those times. Not one line. Don't you dare.”_

The Doctor shuts his eyes, trying to shut out the memory. He'd not sworn to it, therefore hadn't broken any promises. And it was for the best, anyway. Not just for him, but for her, for them both. She's in his bed rather than serving a sentence for a life she never took; her life is running parallel to his instead of in the opposite direction. He thinks, had she known, she'd have allowed him to make the change. Not that he has any plans of telling her. He can't.

_Spoilers._

A reluctant smile curves at her favourite word. Looking back up at the monitor, he adjusts their flight a little. A soft chime echoes through the room. The centre column pumps faster, spinning them through time and space. He knows he's running, wonders if there is anywhere far enough, any time long enough so that he can forget. He is, he admits, a little envious of the fact she has.

But perhaps there are other ways. Every planet, every moment with her builds new ones. They carve them into history, his and hers now twinned together, and isn't that worth it?

And so, in reality, what the Silence did, in taking her, in pursuing him, was to give him a reason to save both of them. River from a lifetime in the Storm Cage, himself from death. They stole River's life and yet... and yet are responsible for the fact she lives again. Not a regeneration, not when she's gifted all of those to him, but something more.

Something better, if that's not being too arrogant.

“Doctor?”

He turns. Her hair is mussed, her smile sleepy. She wears his jacket, nothing underneath, and he thinks that she looks far better in it then he ever has.

“I couldn't sleep, but didn't want to wake you.”

“I wouldn't have minded.” She wanders to his side and slips her arms around him. “Bad dreams?”

“Bad memories,” he amends, being fully truthful for once.

“Care to tell me?”

He smiles. “Spoilers, my love.”

“Ah.” Because she understands, she doesn't ask. Instead she reaches over his shoulder and angles the monitor to see it better. “Osberous. Ooh, the planet with the purple sky.”

“And the Tomb of the Giant.”

River beams at him. “Love a tomb,” she remarks.

“Yes.” The Doctor tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, then flicks the end of her nose. “I remember.”


End file.
